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you are again.” Karl let out a peal of triumphant laughter. All his anger had evaporated. “Here, Pasha,” he ordered, and snapped the leash to his collar. A “that will do” put a quick end to any further show of exuberant feeling. Again and again interrupted by his own laughter, he said to George, “The dog broke away from the old man. He knows where he belongs. It’s the smartest thing he’s ever done. I feel like standing on my head. Now let the old scoundrel have me arrested for cruelty to animals! Now let’s see him annul the sale!”
    George protested. “Vogg’s not a rascal. He wouldn’t steal your dog or anything else.”
    â€œThat’s an open question.” Karl was now in complete good humour, satisfied with his victory, but still he did not want to give up the argument. “Question ofhow you look at it, old man. You’re a sentimental soul and I’m made of sterner stuff, so let’s not be enemies. Good-bye.” He turned into a side street and strode off.
    â€œEnemies!” thought George. As he looked after the stiffly marching form he could not get rid of a bitter feeling. He stood there uneasy and depressed.
    The dog had made the decision. He had remained true to his master. Love for his tyrant had proved stronger than fear of abuse. Whoever tried to help him would only make himself laughing stock. George petted Renni, but this time the happy, trusting response brought no lift to his spirit. And so he went sadly home.
    There lay Nemo, wretched and sick in the sun. He came to meet George, crawling painfully, humbly, on his belly, and again George could not decide whether the pitiful wreck of a dog was trying to beg forgiveness for something he had not done, or was once more trying to show gratitude for kindness. Here was another sacrifice to mankind’s cruelty, thought George, stopping over to murmur a few gentle words and look into Nemo’s sorrowful eyes.
    â€œThis outcast will go on mourning for the master he once had, and love him still in spite of everything. Oh, big-hearted dogs!” thought George. “Oh, mean-hearted men! Will it be so always?”
    Mother Marie, after she had heard the story and realised how sad George was, comforted him. “Just go calmly along as you’ve been doing. Look at Vogg. He thinks as you do, and is working for the same end. Think about me—” she hesitated—“and about Bettina. Probably Nemo’s owner was a drunkard. There are plenty of people in the world who have their hearts in the right place. You’ve happened to see two or three examples of cruelty. You think cruelty is everywhere. Well, there’s far too much of it, I admit. It’s rampant, here in Europe. We’ll see lots more of it—nations for nations, races for races, men for animals, men against men. But we can be kind. We can do something with kindness. Don’t set out to be a reformer. Don’t make a martyr out of yourself. You weren’t meant to be a martyr. You have a job to do, son. Keep cool.” It was a long speech for Mother Marie.
    Bettina, though not so wise in experience, was just as firm in her confidence. “The best thing would be to stop thinking about it. For after all there’s nothing you can do to change some people.”
    Renni just put his forepaws on George’s shoulders. There was nothing he could say.

PART II

Chapter IX
    R ENNI’S TRAINING HAD REACHED the point where it was really necessary to have someone play the part of a wounded soldier. Fortunately, just at this time the eccentric Russian family made their appearance. They had rented a large country house in the neighbourhood and set out to make their “get-acquainted” calls.
    They came in two divisions. “If we all came at once it would be too many,” declared Vassili Maximovich Safonoff, running his beautifully manicured hand throughhis long, full, grey